Empire State of Mind
by Tune4Toons
Summary: Gift!fic for Foxpilot. — What Falco originally thought was going to be a bar party for Fox turned into Pub 64's worst case of antics ever! If you thought you had some crazy nights, imagine theirs.
1. Act I: Player One Against All

Author's Note: Just to disclaim, this is the second attempt at the gift fic.

Let's see here… I think I got the date right… Here it goes… HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FOXPILOT! Yeah, I know. Just roll with it for a sec here.

Another fanfic already? Mhm, but it's completely different from the first one. Enjoy~

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**ಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲ**

**Empire State of Mind**

**Act I**

**ಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲ**

Falco burst through the glass doors of the local Cornerian bar, Pub 64, with a proud smirk on his face. His friend, Fox, took his time walking in seconds after, scanning the room of local regulars; his boots clicked along the metal floor.

"Falco, you sure this is a good idea?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, Foxy. What Peppy doesn't know won't hurt'em."

See, they had just arrived here after an excruciatingly exhausting journey of one yard to the Corneria Headquarters, where General Pepper congratulated them for another successful campaign. Then he went off into some soulful, reminiscent junk about those good 'ol days of when the original Star Fox team served the galaxy with James McCloud as their leader. If only Pepper realised that it was the _last_ thing Fox needed: to be reminded that his parents were dead, and how he was labelled as someone in need of mental care due to seeing ghosts of his father guiding him (via some deus ex machina that seemed to save him from total mass destruction. Every. Single. Time.).

So here they were, hoping to get away from all that for a day. The pub was all Falco's idea, since Fox was nice enough to let him take command for today before all superiority returned back to him, meaning he could boss the crap outta everyone again. Yay!

Fox crossed his arms. "I get the party idea, but renting an entire bar? I seriously doubt you can pull the blame on Slip for this one this time."

Falco clasped a blue wing on his shoulders. "Dat's 'cause we don't need to worry 'bout blamin' anybody. 'Dis is all off of Pepper's tab." Between his fingers was a chunky, top-curved box with a slot in the bottom.

Fox's eyes went wide. "Is that his cartridge?"

"Yup. Took it when he wasn't lookin', and I have 'dis too." He held up grey, triple-handle controller with colourful buttons and an analog stick in the centre.

"You even stole his controller? Are you crazy? Why'd you steal those from him?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, McCloud. It's not stealin'; it's borrowin'. What he doesn't know won't hurt'em. Do ya even know what you can do with 'dis?" He fanned the objects in front of Fox's face. "Things. Many, many things."

"I don't know about this…"

"Loosin' up, why don'cha? Besides, think of it as a birthday gift from meh, birthday boy."

"My birthday was last month…"

"Meanin' I'm 11 months early! Don't say I never gotcha anythin'. We'll be havin' a great time today! Let's get ta work, shall we?" He pulled Fox along to the side, avoiding as much eye contact with the shady foxes in the corner as possible. "So d'first thing we gotta do is get 'dis cartridge into some grey boxy thing."

Fox glanced to his right, seeing a grey box and a couple jugs of beer sitting next to the bar counter. "What does it look like?"

"A grey box with one slot for d'cartridge, four plug-in slots for the controller thingies. Tell meh if ya find it."

He decided to stay silent as Falco scanned the pub. Fox watched as his feathers moved throughout the room, checking under every nook and cranny. The bird lifted up every jug (even while people were drinking them), ducked under every table and chair, and even took off the fedoras of waiting cats, mutts, and whoever else's orders haven't arrived.

After such a frivolous attempt in finding the box, Falco came back and plopped his head onto the table next to Fox.

"I found the box by the countertop," Fox said.

Falco glanced up, seeing the object sitting within eyeshot. His eyes widened.

"I found the box by the countertop! You can stop lookin' now." He flashed a cheeky grin. "We make a good team, don't we?"

Fox rolled his eyes as he watched Falco hook everything up onto the box. Strange devices, really.

"Hook 'dis here, stuff 'dis there, and there ya go." Falco stepped back and marvelled at his handiwork. He held onto the controller, and grinned back at Fox. "See, nu'in to it—"

The bar door burst open, leaving dust and mist to trail in the way all classic western movies start. The clink of boots got louder as a group of four entered the pub with an air of menace, and roses.

A wolf in a trench coat stood by the door, scanning the room with his one good eye, other covered by an eyepatch. Huh. Cowboy pirate detective. What a tale those two never expected to tell.

A few goons—a lizard, pig, and ape—walked into the room, armed with blasters while threatening people with "Stay down." and "You're next, pal." The regulars froze in their places, watching as barrels get trained to their heads, never realising they had the advantage with 50 of them (who were armed as well) versus those three.

"Can't let you do that, Star Fox," the wolf said. Huh. Cowboy pirate detective with a British accent. That was new.

"Star Wolf." The two had a stare down. "What do you want, Wolf?" Fox growled through his teeth. Seeing how the situation seemed under control (or at least as far as leaving Fox as a distraction went), Falco continued tampering with the box, pulling out an instructional manual that sat from under it.

"I demand a rematch," Wolf snarled. "Right here, right now."

"This'll be quick, then."

Fox stepped forward, grabbing his blaster— he stopped. His limbs wouldn't move, still in the air. His feet soon froze as well.

"Got it!" Falco cried. "Press A to fire, then use d'analog stick to move…"

Fox's arms jerked as he leaped into the air. "Falco, what the hell is going on?" He started firing his blaster, which was horribly misaimed. Lasers bounced off ceiling lights. Light bulbs got shattered. Men were screaming like little girls (because you know, screaming made action scenes feel complete).

"Press L to tilt left, R to tilt right…"

Fox stumbled over to Wolf's direction in a slithering motion, causing the rest of the Star Wolf crew to surround him with their blasters aimed straight ahead.

"Press Z to do a barrel roll. Huh."

They all fired at the fox when he jumped up and spun in the air. Lasers deflected off of his shoes, bouncing back. One, two, and three goons were down, and out for the count. The crowd roared like thunder as Fox dropped to the ground with perfect finesse. Wolf stared in disbelief.

Cowboy pirate detective with a British accent and sport fans. Huh.

Falco tampered on. "B button to drop…bombs? What bombs?" His blue finger tapped the button. In response, Fox pulled out a small grenade from his pocket.

His eyes widened. _Nonononononono!_ Then he chucked it at Wolf, who ran out of the way as quickly as he could. The lizard stood up with a hand clutching his head. _Three, two, one_, and the grenade exploded. Tables flew, one hitting the lizard goon's neck and sending him plowing out the door. The shock from the blast sent the entire group flying out the pub, a huge hole where they shot through. Fox and Falco were left staring at the leftover broken wall.

Those men were guys who have survived explosions that could've otherwise obliterated their cockpits and kill the living hell out of everybody. They were freakin' Jesus Christs, for gosh sake, and yet they were half-dead from this alone.

"Uh, well, looks like we took care of dat, huh?" Falco let out a shaky chuckle, matting the blue feathers that ruffled from the blast. He pressed the power button on the box and Fox felt his muscles release. Then the fox stomped over and swiped the controller from Falco's hands.

"Never. Again."

Falco flung his hands in the air. "No harm, no foul."

"You blew up the place! You call that no foul?"

"Technically, you blew up d'place—" Fox threw the controller at Falco's face before he could say anymore. Then he stomped away to the bar and called the bartender over for a beer.

Falco rubbed his beak as he picked up the controller. "Uptight little prick…" he grumbled. He glanced around the place. All the regulars returned to drinking and chatting. The party hadn't started, so he had time to pull a few _extra_ strings.

He walked up to a spotted leopard in a red dress shirt, who was chugging down a bottle of rum. Then Falco whispered in his ear.

"Call up d'rest of d'guys for meh, will ya?"

* * *

Tune4Toons: And that is part one of this epically little saga of pub adventures. Yup. You heard me right. _Part one? Where's two?_ I would have just combined it, but I stalled instead~ So this'll be a two-shot. Hope you're liking it so far, F-p! Credit goes to you for the inspiration. And to you readers, I hope you liked it too.

Special thanks to _Loke Groundrunner_ for being beta! Feedback and criticism are still always appreciated.

Stay tuned for part two, coming soon to a computer screen near you.


	2. Act II: When the Ladies Come Marching In

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**Empire State of Mind**

**Act II**

**ಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲಲ**

Leave it to this guy to throw a party like this.

Fast forward an hour later after the fight with Star Wolf, and lines of pilots had trailed into the bar. Tonight was when many learned that Cornerians could party hard. What a sight to imagine; no other night could compare. Male pilots danced on the countertops, feigning stripper moves and lap dances. The bass pounded so hard, mini earthquakes shook the floor. Corks popped as wine, whiskey, and beer rained down everywhere, hosing the place as if someone had set fire to the joint (and trust the witnesses when they say tables were on the verge of combusting).

And don't forget those ol' bastards next door who always tried to turn the noise down: the "Police". Lovely, indeed, was this night of all nights. A little piece of paradise for everybody.

…Well, almost.

Fox couldn't believe his eyes. He fell asleep after seven drinks for an hour and already the place was overcrowded. Only one problem.

"This is a pub, not a stripper's club! Look at them!" Fox pointed at the men on the stage who were pole-dancing for who-knows-what. Lots of whistles and yells of "YYYEEEAAAHHH!" came from their direction.

A white goatish bartender in a black and maroon coat chuckled next to him as he wiped each of the glasses on the counter. "They seem happy."

"But there are no women here!"

"So?"

"Come on. There's gotta be someone to pick up, right?"

The goat looked over Fox's shoulder. "Try one of them. They seem interested."

Fox glanced behind him, seeing a grey wolf saluting and a somewhat blue bird winking back at him.

"I'm good, thanks."

Was this Falco's doing, or is this really what 64 was like? Picking up a pair of sunglasses that he found on the table, Fox decided to approach the bird himself, who was busy chatting away a storm with a few guys he seemed to know: a spotted leopard, a white collie, and a lean lynx. They all sat around a table, drinking to their hearts content. Fox felt an uncomfortable ache from down-under, bu he decided to leave it be for now.

"Foxy," Falco called out, seeing him coming. "What'cha think of dis? Pretty sweet, huh?"

"Falco, haven't you noticed that something's missing?"

"Oh yeah, Katt couldn't come today. She said somethin' 'bout dying her fur black and goin' goth. That's pretty hot."

"What? No, that's not what I mean," Fox said.

The leopard belched as he answered, "If you think that's something, I got a chick who went through a species change. Now _that's_ pretty hot."

Fox said, "N-no, listen to me. There aren't any—"

The collie set his glass down and said, "Well, I happen to know a girl with blue fur who likes wearing tribal getup."

"Will you lis— _that's_ pretty hot, actually." Then the fox shook the thought out. "Look guys, we gotta get some girls here somehow. There is just no way this party is going to happen without them. You hear me, right Falco?"

Falco laughed. "'Dats right, guys. All leading males gotta have a chick somewhere, and the poor loner, Foxy, over'ere needs a lady friend."

"Exactly— wha-hey! I'm not a loner!" At that instant, nature decided to strike him hard, and fast. He sighed, realising he shouldn't have drank so much earlier. "Well, I'm gonna head to the bathroom first. Be right back."

"It's a'ight, Foxy. Go have your fantasies first."

The table roared with laughter as Fox shot Falco a glare and muttered death threats under his breath. His muscles tensed up, fists clenched, as he stomped over to the back of the pub.

He walked over to the bathroom door, where he noticed something wrong with the sign on it. Rather than the universal symbol for men with the pointy-eared stick figure, this one had a triangle for legs. Then the doorplate with the word "women" caught his eye. _Huh, that was weird_. He looked around, searching for another bathroom to enter, finding none nearby.

Fox spotted the goatish bartender from before and called out, "Hey, barkeep?"

"Yes?" the goat said.

"Is there another bathroom I can use?"

"Nope. That's the only one we have."

Fox sighed. "Alright, thanks anyways." He stared at the door in front of him. Gazing at the oh-so-familiar stick figure that symbolised the "female", at least he didn't have to worry about embarrassment since apparently you had to wear a triangle skirt to be considered a woman.

He had nothing to worry about.

Especially when there was that subtle, big red button sitting on the wall next to the door.

"Well then. Looks like it's time…" he put on the sunglasses he found earlier, "…to take care of some business." Then Fox pushed the bathroom door open.

"Oh wait," the goatish bartender called out. "That's the only _bathroom_, but we do have a _washroom_ down by the…" then he noticed Fox was gone, "…and never mind then."

Inside, the first thing Fox saw was a bathtub in the middle of the room. He was unsure if people actually used it though. Either way, he walked into the farthest stall and closed the door behind him. There was no way in Lylat that there was going to be a detailed description of what he was about to do in there. But if there was, one could say what was heard in the room was a _zip_ followed by the sound of water gushing out of a tap.

* * *

Overactive imaginations aside, Falco and his crew were at the table, still drinking after Fox had left them. Of course, nature planned to strike them as well. And the countdown began. _Three, two, one_…

"I gotta go to the bathroom too," the white collie said.

"Same," the lynx said.

Both of them stood up from the table and walked where Fox had gone. Falco stared at them in disbelief. "Ya gotta be kidding me. All y'all?"

"Might as well," the leopard said, following suit.

Falco threw his hands up. Then he decided to go as well. Might as well find out where the bathroom was in case he really _did_ have to go. Ambling over there (half-stumbling, half-walking), he saw all the guys and a brown fennec fox pushing the door with a sign that said "woman".

_Ah, classic_, he thought, smirking as he saw that oh-so-familiar female stick figure on the door. So long as none of them had triangle skirts, it should be fine.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he was about to yell "What?" when he noticed a small vulpine teenager wearing some weird, tribal getup while holding up a blue feather.

"Is this yours, sir?" the kid said with a high-pitched British accent. Lovely. Felt like a reminder of the Star Wolf incident all over again.

"Yeah, but you can keep it." Falco eyed the fox a little closer. "How'd a kid like ya get in here?"

"Fake ID."

"Ah, the classics. Run along kid, before yer mommy finds out yer here."

The fox nodded, and he skipped over to the bathroom as well, holding the blue feather in his paws. Then Falco noticed the big red button that sat on the wall to the right.

_Huh, wonder what that does_, he thought. And he pushed it, which was the obvious method to go with when it came when it came to something curious. As always.

In that instant, he felt an explosion followed by a scream.

He probably shouldn't have done that.

* * *

Inside the bathroom, Fox finished his rounds and walked over to the sink when three more people entered the door: a brown fennec fox, a white collie, a lynx, and a leopard.

The first three bolted straight into the nearest stalls, leaving the one Fox was in a while ago empty. The leopard took his chances and walked into that one, noticing the toilet seat was still up. Typical. Of course Fox forgot. Don't worry about the other three guys, though. Unlike him, they'll probably remember to put the seat down after. Maybe.

As Fox was washing his paws at the sink, another person entered the room, this time a young little fox holding a blue feather. He couldn't help but contemplate on how young this kid was. Maybe if he was a girl, he might try his luck— no, he shook that thought out. The alcohol must be getting to him.

All too soon came a rumble in the room. The bathtub in the middle then exploded in front of the little teen's face.

And cue the girly scream.

* * *

Outside, Falco started chuckling to himself, trying to imagine just what exactly was going on inside the girl's bathroom. The door burst open, and a soaked Fox McCloud came stomping out. One look to his left, and he was glaring at Falco, who in turn was now laughing his socks off. The fox's fist clenched as he stomped over towards the blue-feathered bird.

"What the hell happened to ya, Foxy?" Falco choked out, his laughter forcing veins to pop out of Fox's head. "I just pushed a button, and ya come out like 'dat?"

Fox shook the water off his fur before yelling, "You idiot! The bathtub in there exploded!"

"Have ya noticed a lot of things have been explodin' lately—?"

"There were others in there too!"

"Lighten up. They'll be fine."

Soon enough, with water pouring out from under the door, the first to come out was soaked leopard, who was busy squeezing out the liquid out of his shirt. He huffed as he looked at the fox and the bird. "Not another word," he said before walking away.

"I think we should check on the others," Fox said.

"Don't worry. They'll be tricklin' out in no time. Heh, get it? Tricklin'—"

The push of the door interrupted him, and stumbling out came the collie and the lynx. But wait, there was something different about them, and it wasn't about their wet fur either…

Falco let out a wolf-whistle. "Nice chests, _ladies_." Even Fox couldn't help but gawk at them.

The lynx scoffed. "What are you talking about, ma—"

The collie went bug-eyed, and soon the lynx choked on his, or should it be said, _her_ words. Both of them had walked out with curves in places they never expected to have them in. Their wet shirts really clung onto their chests, giving the guys something…round to look at.

"How— wha— you—?" The new-formed women couldn't form coherent sentences as they pointed at each other in various places. Fox's jaw was left hung wide open, watching the two as they were checking each other out. The chest, the curves, the butt. Could you blame them?

Then they saw the two guys gawking at them.

"Stop staring at us!" they yelled.

"We're not staring at anything!"

"Ugh, I feel so violated," the collie said. And the two ladies rushed out of the bathroom as fast as they could, leaving the two guys behind.

"Well, ya did say we needed more girls here," Falco said.

"How'd that happen, anyway?" Fox asked.

"I dunno. Science? Maybe some weird chemicals 'dat can change Y chromosomes to Xs."

"Or you can call it magic."

"'Dat too."

Fox decided to take a look inside the bathroom himself. Seeing him go, Falco followed suit as they entered the blast zone. Oh, what a sight to behold. The bathtub had indeed exploded into a million shattered pieces, some of which had blown the stall doors wide open, leaving behind four toilets: three seats left down, and the one at the end left up. Huh. Who knew?

Well, in one of the stalls with the seat down, there was a soaked fennec fox staring down at _her_ new body. She was looking at her arms, paws, waist, legs, everything. Walking out and exiting the bathroom, Fox gawked at her the entire time.

Then he said, "She's hot."

Falco stared at him. "But she looks like yer mom."

"What are you talking about? No, she doesn't."

"Trust me. I've seen the pics. Smokin' hot, but if they look like mah mama, I wouldn't go for it, guy or girl."

"Either way, I'm gonna see if I can get her num—" he spotted from the corner of his eye something shiny in one of the stalls, "—ber. Hey, Falco? Come check this out."

The two of them crept over there, unsure of what to expect. Then they saw it. A blue vixen figure was trapped inside an icy cocoon against the wall, just above the toilet. That girl looked just like—

"—'dat kid with the fake ID." Falco clicked his tongue. "Okay, somethin's clearly wrong with the water here. She's blue!"

"You're blue."

"Doesn't count!"

"Well, we gotta get him— _her_ out. Now."

"Fine, fine."

A few kicks and punches onto the ice, and it shattered with ease. The blue-furred vixen fell out and plopped into the arms of Fox McCloud, in that stereotypical princess-hold style. Her eyes fluttered. Then they opened, meeting the gaze of her wonderful saviour.

Then she slapped him.

"Don't touch me," she said.

He decided to drop her onto the floor. "After all we did, geez. Be a little more appreciative, why don't you?"

Then she started checking him out: muscles, abs, you name it. Maybe she was being a little mean to him. He did _save_ her after all, and everyone knows that by default, the guy always got the girl.

"Well," Fox said, "it looks like it's time," he paused to put on his sunglasses, "to find the hot mama."

"YYYYYEEEEEAAAAHHHH!" went a scream from the stage as Fox pushed the bathroom door open, leaving Falco alone with the vixen in the wrecked room.

"Hey, kid?" he said. "How're ya gonna explain 'dis to yer parents?"

"My parents aren't around anymore."

"…Oh, the usuals, then…"

Maybe he should just check if Fox was doing alright.

* * *

Fox followed the vixen through the crowd of fallen soldiers, bodies that lay half-dead on the field of beer puddles. Or was it something else? He couldn't tell, but the smell made him choke for a second. Soon, he lost sight of her, just like the way a lot of his plans go. He had to admit; Falco threw one heck of a party. Where was he during memorials? That'd be a sight to see.

He grabbed the nearest seat and plopped himself on it. Signalling the goatish bartender with a finger, he sighed in content as he waited for his beer.

Falco should organise these kind of nights more often.

* * *

Tune4Toons: Haha and _this_ is why I don't exactly explore this kind of humour, but it had to get out somehow. Don't expect me to do this often. :P

Thanks for joining the variety show, folks! Feedback and criticism are encouraged just the same. Thanks again, and happy readings!


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